


Sleepy Towns and Cemeteries

by MundaneMatthew



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note: Another Note
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 11:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11126178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MundaneMatthew/pseuds/MundaneMatthew
Summary: Having crumbled under the intense stress of trying to succeed L, the First child A jumped from the roof of the academy in attempt to kill himself.However, his attempt failed.The medics were able to save his life. but the damage to his body was severe. His body was in shambles and none believed the boy would live past the first twenty four hours.When he not only survived those hours, but made it an entire week, it left them amazed but not any more optimistic for his odds.His body could recover, sure, but A was in a comatose state and showed no signs of ever waking up.The only one who was certain they had to keep going with the boy's care was B.B wouldn't let them just leave A behind, not when this was their fault to begin with.Even if he had to do it alone, B wouldn't abandon A.He'd promised.





	Sleepy Towns and Cemeteries

Whenever it rains, they always close the windows in our room, but once they’ve gone I open them again. I hold his hand in my own and wait for the breeze to touch his skin so his arms become littered with goosebumps. Sometimes that’s the only way I can tell he’s still here. That he can still hear me and feel me. Sometimes even that’s not enough. I can feel the doubt in me, like bile in my throat. I wish it wasn’t there, I wish I was able to be confident in his recovery, but it’s hard.

The doctors keep telling me that he’s healing well. They removed the stitches in his head a few days ago and already the skin where they were has begun to lighten so I doubt he’ll scar. Besides, his hair will grow back to cover most of it anyways, so I suppose it doesn’t really matter.

The bells ring nearby and remind me that it’s nearly time for classes. If I want to get there on time, I have to leave now.  
Of course, it’s been a long time since I was on time to a class. I don’t think the teachers of my classes mind. Or they simply can’t bring themselves to be cross with me. I’d still do this everyday even if they did.

I carefully remove the I.V. bag from the hook and drape it delicately around my shoulders, fastening it to my shirt with a small clip. I take off the sensor stickers from his chest and turn off the machines before they begin to screech like usual. 

He’s so light when I pick him up from the hospital bed and position him on my back. He always was, that’s the life of a busy student. Still, it makes my stomach hurt. I worry. I always worry.

His small arms dangle over my shoulders and I can’t help but to squeeze his fingers with my free hand before we set out to the halls.

It’s quiet out here for the entire walk. I see maybe three other children who are running late like myself. They all throw me glances that ooze sympathy. I know what they’re thinking. They must believe I’m mad to go through this every day. They don’t know that I was mad way before all of this.  
That thought makes me laugh a little and instinctively I turn my head to look at his face, hoping for a reaction of any kind. Anything beyond random eye movements behind closed lids. I’m let down much like always and through the pain that ignites in my chest, I keep walking.

When we walk in, the teacher stops speaking instantly. I hate this part. The unwavering silence as I sit him down gently in his chair and adjust his I.V. bag to a small nail in the wall above him. I can feel everyone’s eyes on the two of us and it makes my skin crawl. 

I sit down at my own desk next to him and get out my books and pens. I just want the class to go on already, so they can all stop staring- or at least so I can do something besides seethe under their pity looks.

Eventually the teacher begins to talk again and carries on the lesson like usual. I take notes, answer questions every now and then, but I never really concentrate on what’s being done. I can’t focus on anything but the boy beside me anymore. The only reason I bother coming to class at all is because I know how cross he would be with me to find out I had quit. He’d probably be annoyed with me for cutting it down to simple morning classes too actually.

Our three classes are in this same room, thankfully. So I don’t need to move him at all until lunch comes around. I piggyback him to the cafeteria where I get my food and then we go into the common room and I let him sit and rest against my shoulder while I eat. 

Mid-way through lunch, I change out his fluid bags and adjust his feeding tube. I always wait until I’ve eaten to do it or else I lose my appetite. 

When the bell rings for the end of lunch, I carry him back to our room, carefully walking the longer ways around to avoid the crowds of children going to their afternoon courses. It wasn’t like I couldn’t carry him the entire way through a crowd, but I hated how most of the time those stares from them and the gawking, it was directed at him and not me. And there had been times when I heard the whispers, heard someone ask a friend, “Shouldn’t he be dead?”.  
I never want him to hear that.

I get to our room and set him back down into his bed. I hang his I.V. bags up on the hooks once more and take my seat beside him. Before all this, around this time I’d do any homework from class, but that’s not a very frequent task for me to complete. So instead I read to him.

We’ve gone through most of the books in the library by now. I asked Roger to order more, but I don’t know if he will and I can’t bring myself to go back to talk to him. The pity in his eyes is the one I hate seeing most.

Because Roger knew him before. And Roger knew me before.  
And now when he looked at me, it was like he didn’t recognize who I was.

I did the same thing each morning in the mirror.

After all, who was B without A?

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to be gay and angsty™ when I woke up today.  
> I thought; self? what sad things can we do?  
> and I realized; self! we can write BxA angst!
> 
> thus, this piece.  
> I would like to make this a multi-chapter thing.. but i'm so good at procrastinating I don't know if I will ^^;
> 
> it was inspired by and titled after the song Sleepy Towns And Cemeteries, by Nicole Dollanganger.


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